Destiny-The Sovngarde Chronicles
by INTIMIDATOR13
Summary: Join "Victory or Sovngarde" on their quest to grab sweet loot and perform sick jumps throughout Bungie's popular new game.
1. Prologue

**Destiny may be the game that reunites my clanmates and truly brings "Victory or Sovngarde" to another generation of consoles. Alternatively, it might flop horribly and just make us hate each other more.** **Time will tell on how much I can keep this story going. Without further adieu, the V.O.S. comeback tour begins…**

** Prologue: The Tower of Power, Too Sweet to Be Sour**

"Is that the one?" a gossiping citizen queried her friend. "Is that the Sovngarde leader?"

"I think so. I heard that no one even listens to him, but he's just the only one who can coordinate so many strange people. The group is falling apart. He and that sniper have joined Dead Orbit, but most of his allies are New Monarchy. There's even one weirdo who went and joined Future War Cult."

"What kind of outfit is he running when everyone is so divided?"

The sullen warlock in the black coat briefly considered letting the gossipers know that he could hear them. He also considered setting them on fire, but decided to just let it go and focus on his objective.

"Today's mission is to drink until my ship is repaired," the wizard, a man going by the name of "Jack" thought aloud. His pride and joy, the "Outrageous Fortune", had taken some hits during his last blockade run over Mars. Specifically, he'd lost a thruster while ramming a Cabal fighter into an enemy cruiser. Many of his peers viewed such a tactic as "reckless" or "insane", but to him, it was a stroke of genius. The Cabal now had one less cruiser in orbit around Mars, and not a single Guardian had died. Creativity like that was the only way to win a war against such a superior foe, but many people at the tower thought otherwise. The Speaker himself had reprimanded him for such aggressive behavior, to which he had replied with a raised middle finger. It wasn't like the Speaker had the authority to do anything but hand out worthless medals anyway.

After a short walk through the hangar area and some mean glances from Ms. Holliday, Jack reached the private lounge that he frequented. While technically open to any and all Guardians of the tower, his crew had taken over the place by virtue of squatting there most often. Sitting down in his favorite chair, one with a clear view of any and all entrances, the mage ordered his scotch and took a load off. The mage ran his hand back through his messy, long black hair and took a look at his reflection on the table.

"Damn, I look good. The blue skull paint is getting a bit dull though. It's hard to find woad these days. Hey, bartender, send a drink up to the shipwright, on me. Amanda looked kind of pissed about the work I made for her. Oh hey, Corey's here! Heil Hideo!"

The approaching warlock was not amused. The joke had been a shot at Corey's New Monarchy armband, which Jack kept saying looked like Nazi-wear. Taking a seat opposite Jack, the yellow robed Japanese man had the appearance of a modern-day samurai, his great ponytail flailing about in the wind.

"That joke wasn't funny the first time, and it's not funny now. The New Monarchy is not a fascist organization. We just want the city to be unified…"

"Because unity is the only way to defeat our enemies," a new voice interrupted, this one sounding somewhat mechanical. Another one of Jack's friends was approaching, this one a white plated exo in yellow Titan armor, sporting a New Monarchy tassel about his waist.

"Ah, the terminator joins us! Come, have a seat and debate philosophy with us, Coop-43."

"There's nothing to debate. Fascist or not, the Monarchy still poses a better set of ideals than your Dead Orbit crap. Yes, build your fleet and leave the city, that way you can all get murdered by the monsters. Meanwhile, we'll all work together for a better future."

"Under a dictator."

"An autocrat who will lead us more efficiently than the current council system…"

"Are you idiots arguing again?" a fresh voice piped in, coming from a Chinese man in hunter garb.

"Oh great, it's Chinese Elvis," Coop-43 replied, cupping his face in his palm. "I don't see you putting forth any great ideas. Aren't you Dead Orbit too?"

The Elvis-looking man in question, a Hunter named Glen, took up his position at the table, dramatically flourishing his split swag cloak behind him as he sat down.

"Bitch, please, you think I care about politics?" Glen asked flatly. "I just look good in black. Don't hate me cus' I'm beautiful."

Jack took a large gulp from his glass. This kind of crap was why he drank.

"Politics and Crucible sponsorship swag aside, let's get down to business. Once my ship is fixed, we're headed for Venus to rob the Vex blind. The Vault of Glass has been found, boys, and we're going to be the crew that cracks it!"

**Assuming my clan gets through the Vault of Glass, this story will continue…**


	2. Chapter 1

**Episode 1: Vex-itcong On Our Six!**

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. The sun shined brightly, bringing its glorious luminescence to the denizens of the Last City on Earth. Standing high above this city was the Tower, a monolith that housed the Guardians, warriors blessed by the Light of the Traveler who floated above. While the shipyard hummed with the activity of hundreds of ships coming and going, one ship in particular stood out. It was the "Outrageous Fortune", a state of the art jumpship built using pre-Collapse schematics found beyond the City's walls.

This ship had the appearance of a boomerang, the nose forming the tip of a curved triangle. The rear sported four thrusters, with two more tube like apparatuses usually attached beneath the ship. This particular day, however, one of those typically attached engines was conspicuously absent. The rest of the ship looked a bit worse for the wear as well. While the paint job typically consisted of a snow white body with some horizontal blue stripes, the majority of the vehicle was blackened with carbon scoring and bullet holes. A dent the size of small twenty-first century sedan was visible on the right side. The horn like structure that typically adorned the top of the ship was missing its upper half and sparking wires were poking in its place.

The head shipwright, one Amanda Holliday, was visibly shaken by the monumental task of once again repairing this vessel. Yet again, its owner had done something incredibly dangerous and stupid, specifically taking on a Cabal cruiser solo. The bullet holes, scorch marks, and broken pieces made sense based off of the story Holliday had been told, but the large dent in the side baffled her.

"What did Jack do to make this dent?" she asked aloud to no one in particular. "Wait, is he ramming things again? Jack! You son of a bitch! I told you to stop doing that! Do you know how much trouble I have to go through to fix impact damage? Why, the nerve of that idiot! I ought to beat him with this wrench the next time I see him!"

To most of the shipwright's assistants, such a fit of anger was almost expected of the raging blonde woman, as Jack had a way of destroying ships, while Holliday defended her "babies" with the enthusiasm of a mother panther. The newest assistant, however, trembled with fear, the red scarf about Holliday's neck reminding him of a bull that had just gored a matador. The bartender of the nearby lounge arrived, a bottle of whiskey in hand.

"Mr. Redgrave sends his regards."

In that nearby lounge, several guardians were gathered around a small rectangular table behind the bar. At one end of the table, with his back to the wall, sat Jack Redgrave, the infamous "Ship Wrecker". Depending on who you asked, he was either the best pilot that the solar system had ever seen, or a reckless idiot with incredible luck. Either way, he left a trail of burning scrap metal everywhere he flew. Garbed in a buttoned up black trench coat that matched his long hair, he was nearly invisible in the dimly lit back room. The only significant source of light around Jack was the strange set of gauntlet that he wore. Upon his wrists and running up to almost his elbow were matching tubes of solar energy, veritable fireballs on his arms. These were the strange "Sunbreakers" recently sold to many Warlocks by the shifty merchant Xur, who seemed to come and go as he pleased, much to the dismay of the Tower's security teams. Jack's boots were hidden by the table, but it was no huge loss for any fashionistas present. Said boots were simple black boots with some silver colored shin guards.

What most people would usually first notice about Jack, assuming one ignored the glowing gauntlets, was the strange, blue holographic pyramid projected by the silver band on his right arm. The history of the gauntlet was mysterious, going back to the "Precipice of Flame" or some other nonsense. Jack hadn't actually paid attention to the merchant's description. He just thought that it looked cool.

Further adding to Jack's odd sense of fashion was the blue skull painted on his face. While the memories of his past life were hazy, Jack recalled being of a vaguely Celtic lineage, and thus celebrated it with woad painting. His ally Glen had called it "stupid" but Jack didn't care for the advice of a man who spent most of his free time trying to scare birds.

To Jack's right, sitting on the adjacent sofa, was Corey James, a white man with a ronin haircut. He also wore a trench coat, his composed of several shades of grey arranged in a digital camouflage pattern.. Adorning his right arm was a white armband with a red triangle on it that symbolized the New Monarchy. Corey had also purchased the solar gauntlets from Xur and happily wore them, actually making use of them in combat to channel extra power into his solar grenades.

Opposite Jack was Coop-43, an exo that was constantly reminded that he looked a lot like General Grievous from the sixth _Star Wars_ movie. With a white robotic head that bore small antennae on each side, both angled diagonally towards the rear, the comparison was pretty accurate, much to the death machine's dismay. Coop's helmet lay on the table, the residue of his furious light escaping from cracks in it's visor. Said helmet was obviously not airtight, but it blocked bullets and exos didn't need to breathe anyway. The armor that Coop constantly wore(comfort being irrelevant for a mechanical man), covered him from neck to toe in square plates, the only real ornamentation being the extra plating on the shoulders. A plate was placed on the front and back of each shoulder, extending about a foot above said shoulders. This created the visual effect of Coop having small wings or perhaps spikes, depending on what angle one looked at him from. The armor was colored completely green, with the exception of the yellow chest piece and the clear visor on the aforementioned helmet. Like most Titans, Coop-43 wore a tassel around his waist. His bore a skeleton holding a lightning bolt, which the robot thought would intimidate organics. After all, it had certainly spooked him!

To Jack's left stood Glen Magnum, the infamous "Chinese Elvis". This short, Asian man with an Elvis hair-do was engaged in a bout of furious finger pointing at some poor soul who had made the mistake of walking into the V.O.S. private lounge. From the "Lucky Raspberry" on his chest to his white boots, Glen was all about style. The split cape on his back was weathered and falling apart, but Glen wore it with pride, viewing each new stain and tear as a mark of honor.

Jack had ordered his scotch on the rocks, giving him ammunition with which to pelt the confused man talking to Glen. The first ice cube went wide left, but the second one found its mark, nailing the civilian's eye with alcoholic fury. The now terrified man ran away, returning the lounge to a state of relative peace.

"Now," Jack began, a smirk on his face, "I can get back to telling you guys about the vault. You may recall that archive in the Ishtar Sink that some of us hit about a week ago. Well, the ghosts have finished compiling all of that data, and have found a way into the Vex's most mysterious stronghold on Venus. As to what's actually inside the vault, no one knows, but if the Vex have kept it this well protected for so long, then it must be important. We're going to be the team to find out what's in there!"

"So what's the catch?" Coop-43 queried. "I mean, I can't be as simple as just walking in. The Vanguard have known the location of the Vault for years, but no one has been able to penetrate that outer wall."

"Our understanding of Vex door mechanisms has advanced considerably in the last week. Ever since we busted into the Black Garden, our Ghosts have been tearing Vex Security a new one. The archive has shown us that it is possible to hijack the Vex equipment in the area surrounding the Vault in order to make a "Vex spire," just like the one we made in the Black Garden. Since these spires appear to work as keys, you can see where this is going. Now, there will be three areas that need to be secured in order for us to activate this spire. Unfortunately, this will all have to be done at once, as the Vex will likely reclaim any areas we take within seconds of us leaving them."

"I'm assuming that this is going to take more than just the four of us?" Glen interrupted.

"Right, we're going to need at least six people for this one," Jack replied. "So, how about Heather?"

"Uh, I don't think that will work," Corey piped in. "For one thing, she's busy collecting Fallen weapons for Banshee-44, but even if she wasn't, she's a little pissed at you right now."

"Oh, right, the Crucible incident with her boyfriend. Look, Alex had it coming."

"Jack, you snuck up on him with a rocket launcher, then proceeded to teabag him on live television."

"He was camping with a sniper rifle!"

"Then, in the very next round, you set him on fire, tiger-palmed his face, and Sparta-kicked him off of a cliff. I think Lord Shax creamed his jeans after that one."

"Anyway," Jack started, attempting to steer the conversation away from his fit of spiteful jealousy, "I suppose she's going to turn the job down. How about Seph? We could always use another sniper."

"Cayde sent him to Mars," Glen explained. "I believe he said something about finally hunting down Valus Ta'aurc."

"How about Nathaniel? Ooh, I just remembered! He and Merlin-23 both just got back from some scouting missions on the moon. We should get in touch with them before they ship out again."

"We're really getting the gang back together," Corey mused aloud. "We haven't been in such a large group in ages. When was the last time we were in a fireteam of more than three? Was it the last "Sparrow X Games" in June?"

"I think so," Glen replied, beaming with pride. "Those jumps were sick."

"So sick," the other three all replied at once, unified in their love of being totally extreme.

"There's just one problem," Coop-43 explained. "Jack, will you be alright with Venus?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, it *is* a jungle world. Parts of it are similar to Earth jungles, like the ones in Vietnam. We all know how you feel about Vietnam. Jack, are you listening? Hello? Jack?"

Jack's expression was lifeless and unblinking. His hands twitched. In an instant, the table before the wizard was flipped over, drinks flying in all directions. The mad mage knelt down behind the flipped table and retrieved the orange machine gun hidden below it, the "Zombie Apocalypse WF-47", a V.O.S. standard issue weapon.

"Charlie's on our six! I got V.C. all over my A.O.! We need immediate close air support!"

"Oh, crap!"

"Not again!"

"No, no, no, no!"

Coop-43 activated his defensive matrix, producing a protective blue bubble to take cover in. Corey dove from his sofa into the bubble to join Coop. Glen vanished from sight, his footsteps echoing as he sprinted out of the lounge.

It was just another day for the men of V.O.S.


	3. Chapter 2

**Episode 2: Oh, Look, the Plot**

"Look, Holliday, I'm sorry. I just ran out of ammo and-"

"That's bullcrap and you know it! There were five rockets left in the tray!"

Of all the enemies Jack Redgrave had faced, none were as terrifying as an angry shipwright with a wrench. As he tried, in vain, to calm Holliday down, his friends quietly shuffled out of the docking bays and left him to his fate. Ten minutes later, the menagerie of V.O.S. ships finally met up in orbit.

"So," Coop-43 echoed through the ship's comms, "I see you survived the wrath of Ms. Holliday."

"Yeah," Jack replied, rubbing his bruised forehead, "but it was rough. That woman can wield a wrench like an arc blade. I did manage to fight back, though. Her hair is positively drenched in scotch."

"I think she likes you, man. You two fight like an old married couple."

"Coop, I don't think that attempting to murder me with a wrench is a sign of affection. Anyway, I'm glad you guys could all make it. The only one we're missing now is Glen. Where'd he get off to?"

"Oh, his usual ship got totaled. He was waiting for a replacement from some friends at the Reef."

"Oh, really? What happened to his normal ship?"

"He wouldn't say. Every time we ask him, he just mumbles something about birds and walks off."

Then, it appeared. Rising from Earth's atmosphere like a majestic space eagle, the ugliest ship ever built joined the V.O.S. fleet.

"Uh, Glen, is that you? What is that…that…thing…" Jack trailed off, dumbfounded by what lay before him. Never, in his life, had he seen anything so poorly designed. The ship he saw was labeled "Chasing Infinity", and it was an engineering disaster. Not only was the ship in no way aerodynamic, but iit also just looked ridiculous. The ship's profile from the front was akin to a flying boom box, with two great wings shaped as squares. The center of the ship brought new meaning to the term "cockpit", as it was rather phallic-looking. To top off all of the poor design choices, the ship's painters had apparently decided that blinding the Fallen through sheer force of ugliness would be the best thing to do. The entire ship was garishly pink, save for the yellow crown painted on the side.

"Shut up," Glen stated flatly.

"How does that thing even fly? The sides are all box shaped and the middle looks like a pink-"

"Shut up," Glen stated again, this time with a bit more anger in his voice.

"Yeah, it does look just like a-" Corey began before being cut off.

"Shut up! It's just a temporary ship! This is the only ship that my friends could send on short notice."

"Alright then, no need to be such a dick about it."

"I hate all of you." Glen mumbled something about "winged rats", then hit his thrusters and flew ahead of the group, eventually disappearing in a blue flash.

"Well, we've succeeded in making Glen mad already. This should be a productive day for us!" Jack bragged. His comrades joined in on the celebration, and they all cheered throughout the jump to Venus.

The jump, as it's name would suggest, was nearly instantaneous. View screens and cockpit windows were soon filled with hues of green and yellow, welcoming the Guardians to a lush jungle world. The trip down to the surface, however, would take some time. Conventional propulsion had to be used to close the smaller distance, as trying to jump to specific point within a planet's atmosphere tended to end poorly. Ships could leave the warp at high speeds right next to mountains, buildings, volcanoes, or even under a world's oceans. Even for the somewhat reckless V.O.S. team, blind jumps were just not worth the risk.

To fill the time, Jack initiated conversation with his Ghost, hoping to draw some more answers out of the cryptic and unhelpful asshole. Several questions were still burning in the back of Jack's mind about the state of the world since his death. While Jack's memories were hazy, he recalled being a 20th century American soldier of some sort. He had vague flashes of jungle fighting, so he figured it must have been the Vietnam War. It was possible that he had been involved in some operations in a random South American country, but the word "Charlie" kept coming back up, reinforcing the notion that it had indeed been Vietnam. What bothered Jack, however, wasn't his own fuzzy past. To be miraculously brought back from the dead after centuries was pretty incredible, so if process had some imperfections then that seemed very reasonable. The problem was that no one could tell Jack when, exactly, did the Golden Age start? Everyone knew that the Traveler was found on Mars, but no one could tell Jack what year that had happened.

Further confusing Jack was the Collapse. If the giant ball of magic had propelled human civilization ahead so far, then how could it all fall apart so quickly and so drastically? What even was the Collapse? How could the apparently huge and advanced populations of Earth and all of her colonies get wiped out? What even wiped them out? Was it an invasion? Where did the invaders go afterwards? Why didn't they finish off the pitiful bands left roaming the ruins of Earth? Was it a plague? How did it spread from planet to planet? Why was it no longer a threat?

At heart of these questions lay a few even more important questions. What was the Traveler? Was it sentient? Did it speak? How did it uplift humanity? What was the deal with its ancient enemy? The "Darkness" had allegedly hunted the Traveler across space for eons, and finally set it's sights on humanity, bringing about the Collapse. What, then, was the Darkness? The Speaker seemed to refer to the Darkness as all of the various enemies that the City's Guardians fought, but Jack called bull on that very early on. The Fallen were known to arrive on great skiffs to loot human worlds in the wake of the collapse, meaning that they couldn't have been a part of what actually caused the collapse. The Cabal were also latecomers. It was unclear when the Hive arrived to attack Earth's moon, but they were at war with the Fallen. The Cabal would also probably not particularly enjoy the Hive's company.

Yet another mysterious force of this supposed "Darkness" was the race of murderous machines known as the Vex, whom humans had apparently had contact with before the Collapse. The Vex were a force of destruction, destroying all life in their path and turning worlds into machines. As such, the Jack had seen Vex fighting both Fallen and Cabal in his travels. He was willing to bet they would fight the Hive as well, given the opportunity.

"Ghost, can I have a word with you?"

"Of course," the sentient rubics cube replied as it emerged from one of Jack's pockets. Jack raised his hand in rage, preparing to swat the "Little Light" out of the airlock.

"How many times do I have to tell you? That voice has *got* to go. I like you, Ghost. I really do. However, I hate whoever you got your voice from with a raging fury that would make the Incredible Hulk look like a calm, rational, responsible member of society, who knits sweaters for the homeless and saves kittens from trees."

"I'm sorry," the annoyingly monotone voice replied, its sound still reminding Jack of nails on a chalkboard. Jack then mentally apologized to all of the nails being run over chalkboards, as he realized that comparing those sounds to his machine's voice would be unfair and insulting.

"Search your databanks. Find that guy who played in those movies about the killer robots from the future. You know, the guy who needed your clothes, your boots, and your motorcycle."

"Jack, those movies came out some time after the Vietnam War and your likely death. How do you know about them?"

"That is a very good question. Perhaps I didn't die in the war. Maybe I lived to be eighty-five and had several grandchildren."

"I hope not. You are not cut out to be a father."

"Shut up and get terminated."

"Audio files found. Processing…"

The next sound to be heard inside of the ship was something between a cry of pain and a dog dry heaving. To attempt put it into onomatopoeia would be unprofessional and absurd, but those are two traits that my readers will have to appreciate if they intend to enjoy my work.

"Aaawhloo!" the little machine cried, his horrible voice acting now replaced by the manly tones of an Austrian death machine. "I must protect John Connor! Get to the choppa!"

Jack broke out into hysterical laughter, forgetting that his microphone was still on. For the entire remainder of the trip down to Venus's surface, V.O.S. comms were full of the sounds of an entire team of men yelling for their glorious leader to shut the hell up. Jack did not care. They did not hear what had just happened. The could not possibly comprehend his joy.

It was really shaping up to be a good day.


End file.
